


Trust me (“Pickle” remix)

by masterlokisev159



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Ultimates
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angry Steve Rogers, Bondage, Bottom Tony Stark, Confessions, Consent Issues, Dom Steve Rogers, Dubious Consent, Getting Together, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Rough Sex, Safewords, Self-Destruction, Sub Tony Stark, Top Steve Rogers, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22852996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterlokisev159/pseuds/masterlokisev159
Summary: Tony happens to like Steve. He likes him a lot. And sure, Steve doesn't feel the same right now, but maybe with a bit of luck and some successful sessions in the bedrooms, Tony can turn this thing around. Maybe Steve can give him a chance.Remix of "Pickle" where instead of Steve wanting bondage, he doesn't. But he wants Tony to understand and bondage is involved.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 187
Collections: 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Remix Madness





	Trust me (“Pickle” remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by ["Pickle"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466465) by [jellybeanforest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellybeanforest/pseuds/jellybeanforest). 
  * In response to a prompt by [jellybeanforest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellybeanforest/pseuds/jellybeanforest) in the [2020_Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2020_Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness) collection. 



> Thankyou to the wonderful jellybeanforest for inspiring this fic with your own. "Pickle" is a brilliant story and is one of my favorite depictions of ultimate Steve and Tony. I hope you don't mind the direction I took with this and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Warning:  
> Please be aware, there is a point in the fic where Tony is hurt because he isn't able to consent or focus properly on what's happening during sex. If this concerns you, please do not read.

“C’mon, c’mon! Give it t’me!”

He’s overdoing it. It’s got to be the third time this week that he’s had someone over but between the late nights and busy days, he barely has the time to stop and think. So he does what he does best.

“Arrgh! Great, keep-keep going!”

Somewhere in the recesses of his genius mind, he thinks he’d never wanted it this hard. That he didn’t like the sharp sting that lingered the next day and caused him to think twice about standing straight. That sex should be this...this...

“Shit, Stark. You’re bleeding.”

“It-it’s fine.”

 _He’s pretty,_ Tony thinks to himself and feels his lips spread into a warm smile. His back aches, his head pounds and his heart feels torn. This is nothing like it was with Natasha and it’s nothing compared to what he’d imagined with Steve. And yet he finds himself demanding it because he misses it. Not the sex itself but... 

The _release._ That moment of peace. That intense pleasure that takes over, almost blinding in its force. Something to make him forget about the inevitable.

Subspace is an addiction. At least Tony feels addicted and for once, he can actually have it without feeling guilty. Not that guilt has ever stopped him from drinking.

“Stark? Hey!”

He’s drunk but then again, when isn’t he? He’s essentially a high functioning alcoholic and as such, makes the best decisions regardless of diminished mental capacity, simply because it doesn't apply to him. Why else would he choose to hook up with this pretty blond with a body build like Captain America? He makes the best life choices.

Closing his hands into a fist, he stares at the ceiling and wonders how exactly he got to this point. He’s lying naked on his silk bed covers, the finest there is, with a man who looks suspiciously like Steve hovering over his body with a face of concern. The air smells damp and musty of sex and sweat and cum and he’s panting with the heady mix of sensations. Not bad for a last minute find.

“I’m getting help.”

“No s’ fine. I’m _fine_.” He’s slurring. Maybe he shouldn’t be slurring so much.

The man with blond hair and blue eyes jumps off him quickly, pulls up his pants and exits the room without another word. It’s a strange thing because most of the time Tony is left on the bed with cum on his stomach and dots of blood between his legs.

Most don’t care enough and that’s never bothered him. He doesn’t care either. He doesn’t care that Jarvis is dead, that Natasha was a spy, that she used him-

His eyes close and he sucks in a deep breath. 

He doesn’t care.

* * *

When Tony next opens his eyes, it’s late morning and the birds are chirping outside. It’s cliche but true, and he can only groan when he shifts and spots the seat beside his bed.

A newspaper has been left on the seat. 

_Steve._

Mortified at the realization, Tony looks around his room and tries to desperately remember what had happened last night. He’d met someone at a bar, had brought them home, they’d kissed and then-

He pushes himself up on the bed and pulls up the bed covers to check. The sheets are clean. Tentatively he probes. There’s a soft echo of an ache between his legs but nothing more.

He breathes out softly and lets the covers fall again. Unusual but certainly not something he’s gonna complain about. No one usually bothers to check-

“Tony? Are you awake?”

The door is knocked twice before the handle drops and Steve walks in. Strong, incredible Steve who is nothing short of a dick when it comes to Tony’s night time activities. He’s the only Avenger who seems to have a problem with Tony’s life and frankly, that sucks balls.

“Steve. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He purrs, doing his best to smile through the pounding headache. Leaning back against the headboard, he takes in Steve’s appearance. He’s wearing a plain white shirt and dark blue jeans, and holds a tray of water and toast in his hands as if holding a peace offering. But Tony’s not fooled, Steve looks pretty ticked off.

Still, he grunts and steps towards his seat with the newspaper, jaw clenched like he’s holding himself back. “You know exactly what I’m gonna say.”

Tony grins and lets his eyes follow the soldier. “I’m not slowing down. You know how this goes. I eat, I drink, I get fucked-“

“For gods sake Tony!” Steve slams the tray down on the table with enough force to make the whole room shake. He whirls around and makes to reach out for Tony before pulling back instantly. His nostrils flair but thankfully, his hands fall back to his sides. Then he is controlled.

“You can’t carry this on. These people, these _men_ -“

“Oh please darling. If you’re here to call me queer-“

“You know that’s bullshit!” Steve shouts and steps closer, body huge and imposing over Tony’s bed. He’s massive, muscles taut and rigid, like a beast ready to pounce.

Tony feels a shiver run down his spine. It's not all bad.

“You can’t keep doing this.” Steve finally says and looks at the place above Tony’s waist. “You’re going to get yourself hurt.”

This isn’t the first time Steve’s said this. He’s mentioned this almost every morning in the kitchen when Tony’s come down with a slight limp or marks around his neck or bruises on his wrist. The price of living in Tony Stark’s home is after all, the joy of getting to see him wrecked in all forms. Steve should feel honored.

The memory of inviting the Avengers to come live with him appears. He remembers holding his hand out, offering his home with a smile. Really he’d just been so lost after losing Jarvis and Natasha that he’d reached out to anyone he could. Steve had happened to be first. It had nothing to do with his long-standing crush on Captain America.

And Steve had said yes. The rest was history.

“Are you even listening to me?” Steve grumbles and seems to sigh when Tony blinks at him.

They’re quiet for a moment, taking each other in and then-

“He wasn’t going to hurt me you know. He stopped.” Tony didn’t know why he’d said it. Something just made him do it.

Steve tilts his head and stares at him with narrow eyes. Then he smiles grimly and nods towards where Tony’s hand is scrunched in the sheets. “He wasn’t wearing a condom. Do you know that? Do you _remember_ that?”

He says nothing. They both know the answer.

“You’re not doing a stellar job Stark. As an Ultimate, you need to take care of-“

“I’m dying sweetheart. Not much I can really do about it.” Tony snaps back tiredly, finally giving up on the facade. What did it matter if he was killing himself? What did it matter if he was hurt? He was already dead. Drowning in alcohol while someone kept his body warm and pushed him to the brink, was nothing if not kind. It was all he could have. He loved it. In all forms.

And it wasn’t like Steve would understand that. 

“And I happen to like it rough. You wouldn’t understand Steve but I-“

“Oh I understand perfectly.” Steve interrupts rather bluntly, folding his arms and giving Tony a lazy smile with eyes that look ready to kill. “You like to sub. You like to be held down. You like to be controlled. There’s nothing wrong with that. But-“ His smile drops and his eyes sweep over Tony’s smaller form. “You don’t check in. You don’t safeword. You don’t say no when you think it. Instead, you let them pound you so far that you can barely walk. Do you-do you have _any idea_ -“ Steve’s eyes are huge and suddenly fierce.

“Do you have any idea how terrifying it was to see you like that?”

_Oh god._

“You were the one he went to get.” Tony realizes and feels shame wash over him twice over. The thought of having Steve see him like that, half in, half out of it, with his body torn and his neck bruised. 

_Steve must think there's something wrong with me._

Shrugging, Tony looks up with a bored expression. “So what? I like it that way. And you don’t know that I didn’t stop it-“

“He told me. Right after I punched him in the nose.” Steve glares and Tony can’t help but snap his eyes up. 

“Why would you-“

But Steve doesn’t want to talk anymore. He’s shaking with anger and before Tony can say another word, he leaves the room, letting the door slam behind him.

Tony’s left with the water, toast and a small tube of Arnica. And a soft damp compress, tucked away on the table beside another newspaper.

He frowns at the door. He can still hear the heavy footsteps fading in the background.

* * *

Tony thinks that’s the end of it. He holds off for a few days and then very quickly goes on the hunt for his next fix. He sleeps with strong blond men, begs them to hold him down, take him apart and drive him wild. The cycle continues and Steve thankfully doesn’t interrupt. And Tony doesn't mention the new bruises on his skin.

He does catch Steve staring one morning when he enters the kitchen though.

“Steve.” He greets plainly and reaches for a mug. He’s dressed in nothing but his silk dressing gown and briefs and though it’s wrapped around him tight, he feels strangely exposed to Steve’s staring.

Steve is sat by the table, holding a newspaper ( _nothing unusual there_ ), with an empty bowl in front of him. It’s ten in the morning so Steve must’ve just come back from his run. That would explain why his hair looks freshly washed and his skin practically glows. Or maybe it’s just the sun coming through the glass.

“You’re up early.” Steve says and smirks a little when Tony groans.

“Let it go. Unlike a certain super-soldier, I’m no spring chicken.” He pours himself some coffee and slides next to Steve, letting the banter wash over him. It’s too early.

“You’re plenty young. And speaking of chickens-“ Steve’s smirk grows. “I met one earlier.”

Tony raises a brow over his beverage.

“Your latest. Tall. Broad shoulders. Blue hair, blond eyes? Called himself Dave?” Steve says happily, having dropped the newspaper to watch Tony’s reaction smugly. 

Too bad Tony disappoints him. “Dave?” He asks, bringing the coffee to his lips.

“The blond from last night. You know, your latest substitute of me.” 

Tony chokes and spits out his drink. He bends over and coughs and splutters and doesn’t even know what to say and now there’s coffee all over his gown and dripping down his lips-

“I’ll get you a towel.” Steve remarks and casually reaches over to grab one off the side before handing it to Tony. With a glare, he snatches it out of Steve’s hand and tries to ignore how much his eyes are stinging. He’s honestly not crying but he could. He _could_. 

“It’s not a big deal.” Steve says, starting to frown a little when Tony doesn’t stop coughing. He looks concerned and then physically gets up to fill a glass with water. Once full, he steps behind Tony and holds it out from behind. Tony snatches that too and Steve doesn't move.

“You know...” Steve waits for Tony to take a sip. Thankfully he doesn’t say anything until Tony’s done. “You could always try your hand at the real thing.”

Silence.

The air seems to leave the room. Tony is speechless. All he can do is turn to Steve with wide eyes.

“Only if you’re interested, of course.” Steve reassures, holding both hands up to say ‘no danger here’.

_Bullshit. Everything about this is dangerous._

Tony scoffs to try and hide how hot he feels. There’s a niggling feeling in his mind that’s screaming at him to consider this very carefully. But then, when has he not thrown caution to the wind?

“Sure darling. Whatever you like.” He smiles and takes a sip, hoping Steve can’t hear how fast his heart is racing. He’s loved Steve for months now, the man being an absolute hero that Tony could only dream of being with. He loved how brave and strong Steve was, but most of all how kind he was underneath that harsh exterior. Sure he was a little rough around the edges but...

_I want this. At least a small piece before the tumour takes that away too._

Steve watches him closely and before he can react, leans over and pulls Tony’s back gently. When Tony is left staring up at Steve, he leans forward and presses his lips to Tony’s, pushing and sucking gently in such a way that Tony shudders and can’t help but wonder...

“Your room. Tonight. Eight. Don’t be late.” Steve murmurs against his lips and pulls away before Tony can do much else.

Eight it is.

* * *

When Steve turns up, Tony’s ready. He’s showered, had a day of somewhat productive work, and has clean sheets and a considerable amount of alcohol in his system. It’s perfect.

 _Now if only he loved me_ , Tony laments but quickly slams the thought down. What he’s getting is more than enough. He can’t dare ask for more.

The door knocks and like before, Steve walks in. Only this time, he’s far less angry and seems to be buzzing with a heated energy. His eyes are sharp and his teeth are bright as he smiles at Tony. But for some reason, Tony thinks of predators and traps.

“You ready Stark?”

“Born ready darling.” And he is. Of course he is. But just to make sure, he grabs the bottle of wine on the table and takes a swig. Can never be too careful.

Meanwhile Steve is methodically stripping. Like a man on a mission, he wastes no time and he doesn't even look at Tony as he does. “You sure? You could always back out.”

Plastering on a smile he says no and suddenly they kiss. Steve has surged forward, hands sinking into Tony’s hair as his lips claim Tony’s, tongue dancing with his and making his head spin. Steve nips at his lip and tightens his grip on Tony’s hair. Tony can’t help but wince.

“So how do you like it? Want me to fuck you?” Steve murmurs, voice jagged like it’s not natural, what he’s saying, and he seems to be scanning Tony for every minute detail.

“I do. That’s how I like it soldier.” But something isn’t quite right because Steve’s jaw clenches and he grimaces.

But quickly, it’s replaced with a confident smile. “I’ll make you sing Stark. You’ll never want anyone else.”

“Make me.”

He does love a challenge.

* * *

Later when they’re panting on the bed, side by side, Tony thinks about how different that had been. Steve had been firm but gentle, making absolutely sure before he’d entered Tony, to see if he was stretched enough. His wrists had been held but not tightly enough to ache now. His neck is throbbing deliciously but somehow Tony knows it won't bruise horribly. In other words, Steve had played it safe. 

And Tony had loved every bit of it.

“That was...that was something darling.” Tony whispers into the dark, enjoying the way they were lying beside each other. Warmth radiated from Steve and he loved it.

Beside him, Steve doesn’t say anything. And when Tony looks over, something drops into his stomach.

Steve looks angry. He’s frowning and won’t look at Tony.

“Steve?”

“I need to go.”

But that’s not what Tony had planned. He’d thought Steve would at least want to stay the night. “Don’t go. You said we could try-“

“That’s right. That’s all I said.” Steve grunts and finally looks at Tony with nothing but contempt. It makes the whole thing feel so foul that suddenly Tony wants to be sick. “And I’ve delivered. But I can’t be with someone who doesn’t set boundaries.”

_What?_

“I don’t understand.” Tony says, feeling his voice waver. What has he done wrong? Why does Steve suddenly look like he wants to punch him? He thought he’d given Steve exactly what he’d wanted?

“You let me cum in you. You let me hold you down. And you didn’t even try and stop me when I bit you. It’s like you’ll take anything.” 

“But of course darling! It’s what I’m good at.” Tony winks to hide the way his throat can’t swallow and somehow that makes everything ten times worse. Steve’s nose wrinkles and he gets off the bed without a word.

“Sure Tony. It’s what you’re good at.” Steve says sharply once his clothes are back on and he leaves without a glance like Tony’s nothing but a cheap whore. 

Something sinks low in Tony’s gut. The worst part is that he doesn’t even know why Steve left.

* * *

They don’t mention it. The Ultimates face several fights, win and come home to relax. They still don’t mention it.

On the outside nothing's changed but they grow closer as friends, Steve constantly bantering with him and always doing his best to help Tony with even the slightest things. He's there when Tony is found crying to himself over the loss of Jarvis in the late hours where he can't sleep, and he always pulls him aside to distract him when he's caught staring at the empty space that Hank and Natasha used to occupy. Because of the distractions and because of time itself, slowly those parts of Tony's life start to heal and he can't thank Steve enough, though he feels Steve already knows because he never leaves his side.

But Steve keeps showing up at the door after evening celebrations. They keep sleeping with each other.

And there's absolutely nothing friendly about it. Each time Steve grunts and leaves. It’s not nearly as painful as the first time because he doesn’t say anything hurtful and the sex is spectacular but still...

It’s not great. Tony thought he’d be happy to have some part of Steve. But now he’s feels like sloppy second, third, fourth, _fifth_ , with him. Like absolute trash. A pity fuck.

Alcohol fills that ache. Between the sex and the glares before Steve inevitably leaves, Tony doesn’t know where to look. But he keeps going. Steve has quickly become his newest vice. It makes sense that Steve would resent him.

What he’s struggling to understand is why Steve is the one always coming to him. Why Steve actively seeks him out and asks if he’s free that evening for some night time _‘training’_. If he wants some company. If, if, if-

If Tony didn’t know any better, he’d say Steve was addicted to him. Thankfully, the friends with benefits behavior kept Tony in check. That, and the angry glares, of course. He’d never step over the line.

So when Steve asks him if he’d like to try something different tonight, Tony doesn’t say no. In fact, he encourages it. Anything to help make things more comfortable for Steve.

“Sure! What do you have in mind darling?” He says brightly, filling that ache with a martini. They’d just fought AIM. Tony shouldn’t be surprised.

“I want to tie you up. Ropes, blindfold. The works.” Steve says but he’s not looking at Tony. His eyes are looking somewhere behind him and he doesn’t smile, not once.

The strange look on Steve’s face is of-putting to say the least. But maybe he’s embarrassed. Or maybe it’s been a long day and he needs this dark kind of release and feels ashamed to admit it. Either way Tony doesn’t want to even consider that maybe Steve’s doing this to punish him. That he knows Tony’s has a fear of ropes ever since Guatemala. That when he lost Morgan, a part of him died too.

_This must’ve come up before. This must’ve-_

“I saw videos. Blue tapes from years ago. You enjoyed it. Others enjoyed and-“ Steve sounds tired and bleak, but he smiles. “-I want to enjoy it too. Can you do that for me?” He finishes. And Tony’s heart sinks.

_He wants to hurt me._

_But no, that isn’t right because Steve-_

Steve is kind. He’s warm to everyone and despite being sharp sometimes, he does care even about Tony. It’s there in the way he comes over to inspect Tony after every fight. When he greets Tony with a coffee pot that’s always ready. And when he shoves back anyone who dares hurt him.

_Why now is Steve asking for this? Maybe he doesn’t know how much this matters and maybe he just-_

“C’mon Stark. You wanted to sub. You said you liked it rough. We’ll enjoy it and I’ll make sure you have a good time.” He says gruffly and it doesn’t sound like it’ll be a good time at all.

Still Tony sucks in a breath and tries to appear braver under Steve’s stare. He wants Steve to be happy. He’d do anything if it meant Steve wouldn’t leave him and would give him a chance. He could make Steve so happy if he just got given a chance.

“Sure. Anything.” Tony says quietly, completely missing the way Steve’s eyes fill with disappointment.

* * *

Later when Steve arrives at the door, Tony is no-where near prepared. He’s not showered, he’s not changed and worst of all-

He hasn’t had enough to drink. He’s shaking and he hasn’t stopped since morning. He feels awful and his mouth feels dry. How can he do this?

_I have to. It’s only fair if I want a shot with him._

Steve puts up with so much, Tony figures it’s only fair. And so many others have enjoyed bondage with Tony, why shouldn’t Captain America too? It’s only fair-

“Hey.” Steve pushes the door open gently and closes it behind him. In his hand is a series of ropes, a blindfold and a ball gag. Nothing more, nothing less.

“There’s more in my room. I can grab it if you like?” Steve says, watching Tony carefully.

“No. This is fine.” His eyes remain fixed on the rope. Sweat pools down the back of his spine.

“You sure? I have whips and plugs too. Some even have red and gold on them.” Steve says with a raised brow and smiles a little like there’s a joke in there that he expects Tony to laugh at. 

He doesn’t. He can’t.

“Safeword?”

He still says nothing. He’s barely paying attention to Steve. He thinks he can already feel the scratch of the rope on his wrists.

“You’re not saying anything. Don’t tell me you’re backing out now?”

He tries to answer, he really does. His lips part but nothing comes out.

“Tony.” Steve suddenly says firmly and drops the stuff on the floor. He walks forward, determined and places his hands on Tony’s shoulders. His hands are huge but his touch is warm. 

“If you don’t want to do this-“ Steve focuses on him with a gaze of steel. “All you have to do is say.”

“No.” Realization hits Tony and he almost wants to kick himself. He could’ve ruined this for Steve and ruined his chance to be _with_ Steve. “No, I want this. That’s...”

He swallows and smiles, breaking out of the spell by spreading his arms out. “That’s what I’m here for sweetheart.”

 _Fake it till you make it,_ he thinks as Steve pauses and then nods and gestures towards the bed. Tony takes off his silk dressing gown and spreads himself on the bed, taking slow deep breaths to try and calm his heart as Steve picks up the items and lays them on the table. Then he strips as he’s always done and Tony finds himself coming back together piece by piece like a slow jigsaw. This is common. This is okay.

Steve kneels on the bed and in a moment of uncharacteristic gentleness, places a hand on Tony’s cheek. “Safeword Tony.”

“What?” Tony feels dazed. Steve’s hand is so hot on his cheek. It’s lovely.

“I need a safeword. And your promise that you’ll use it sweetheart.”

“Pickle.” Tony blurts and wonders why in the hell he’d chosen a food item he doesn’t even like. But then again, it’s not going to matter. He won’t use it.

He knows it’s the right thing to do. Steve just called him sweetheart. His heart is soaring.

“Okay.” Steve takes a breath and closes his eyes. Then he opens them again. “Okay.”

“Close your eyes. I’m starting with the blindfold.”

* * *

“I was thinking,” Steve says conversationally as he checks the bonds around Tony’s ankles. “That we could start with some questions. You know, like the ones where people ask some questions and then the one tied down has to answer. And if it’s right, they’re pleasured. And if it’s wrong they’re punished.”

“What’s the punishment going to be?” Tony says quietly, blinking into the darkness of the blindfold and trying desperately not to focus on the rough tug and pull of the rope around his wrists.

“I could choke you. Or I could-“

“No choking.” It comes out before Tony can stop it and mentally he curses. How could he have let himself slip up when he’s meant to be giving Steve every reason to stay-

“Sorry, I’m-“

“Shhhh, no sweetheart no.” Steve is suddenly in his ear, breath hot and grazing. But his fingers are brushing Tony’s hair away like he’s done something good and Steve...

Has never done that. Ever.

“You don’t want that? You don’t want me to choke you?” He sounds so gentle and soothing that Tony almost gives in. 

Thankfully he doesn't. But he does start to wonder if maybe this is some sort of test.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind-“

The fingers freeze. Then they pull away and Tony almost sobs. They’d been distracting him from the ropes, and with them, the awful memories of the Red Devil and Morgan and his screams-

“No.” Tony whispers under his breath. And suddenly the fingers are back and lips press against his forehead.

“You don’t want that? Then we’re not doing that.” And, oh. 

That’s not what Tony had expected. 

“What?” He croaks and tries not to jerk when Steve tightens the ropes enough to be secure. 

“Anything else you don’t want? The punishment can just be spanking instead. A bit of rough play?”

Better. Definitely better. “Sure.”

There’s silence. He can’t see Steve but he knows Steve isn’t pleased. But he continues to secure the rope and then it's time. 

* * *

Steve asks him basic things. Things he already knows and that he knows Tony won’t get wrong. Who the Avengers are, where he gets his favorite coffee from. But slowly, the questions shift and as Tony does his best to keep still against the bed, a part of him begins to panic at the looming feeling of dread. He’s sick to his stomach and sweat is building and sliding down his temple. It’s lucky he’s face down on the bed otherwise Steve would see and would no doubt leave him. It would only make sense.

“Who was the first person to fuck you?” 

“Rick Martial.” Tony says after a moment and hisses at the sharp sting on his ass. 

“That’s not a lie!”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t like the answer.” Steve says plainly from behind him and rubs a hand over the curve of Tony’s back. He’s positioned Tony carefully, body face down and spread-eagle. There’s nothing blocking the way to his propped up ass and his hands and feet are totally secure, body held still like a fly in a spiders' web.

“So I have to say the right thing now, even if it’s a lie?” Tony says indignantly and swears when Steve slaps him again.

“What did I just say?”

“Whatever.” Tony huffs and lets anger blind him for a moment. It allows him to hide the stress seeping from the edges. He knows that he’s dangerously close to something awful. That he’s about to make a mistake if he continues this and yet-

“Safeword?”

“Pickle.”

“Good.” Steve strokes the curve of Tony’s ass and leans over to press a soft kiss at the nape of his neck. “Remember, if you need to use it-“

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony can’t ignore the rush of warmth that floods him. Steve’s never kissed him like that before. Come to think of it, they’ve never had this kind of sex before. Steve’s hot and cold, being a forceful dom and yet there’s occasional moments of softness. 

It leaves Tony’s head spinning. Which one is really Steve?

“Did you enjoy it?” Steve continues then, opening Tony up with one, then two fingers as if testing the stretch. His words are forceful but his fingers are warm and careful, never pushing too far. Again, it’s the most confusing sensation but makes Tony’s cock twitch. No one treats him like this and yet, everyone is cold. So in some parts Steve is like everyone else and yet so so different.

“Rick?”

“Yes.” Another finger is added and Steve leans over again to press a trail of kisses down Tony’s spine.

“No. He was an asshole.” He says honestly because frankly, what does he have to lose at this point?

Steve hums and reaches up with his other hand to rake through Tony’s hair. He sinks his fingers into the soft strands and holds the position. Like this, Tony feels like a butterfly, pinned down against the board and displayed for the world to see. 

He’s trapped. Steve’s body is hot and heavy over him. Even with the blindfold, he can feel Steve’s heavy gaze. 

It should feel good. It should feel sensational. It doesn’t.

He makes colossal mistake. He instinctively pulls his hands closer.

They don’t move and the rope bites into his flesh.

_**"Cooperate, Mr. Stark",** the men order him. There are guns pointed at him and Morgan, but he knows doing so will cause the deaths of countless lives. He can’t live with that. He can’t do **anything** -_

“And why was he an asshole?” Steve lays over him, cock heavy and brushing against Tony’s hip and somehow that makes Tony’s breathing pick up more. His mind is spinning.

“He-it hurt! Wasn’t great!” He gasps and feels Steve’s hand pull away from his hair to slowly slide up his arm. Then his hand closes around Tony’s already tied wrist.

“Did you stop him?” He breathes in Tony’s ear and Tony’s mind is in pieces. The hand on his wrist squeezes.

_**“No don’t!”** He screams and suddenly Morgan is gone and there are screams everywhere and fire and everything is wrong-!_

“Do you want me to stop Tony?” Steve says lowly and it almost sounds like he’s pleading.

“I-“

“Tony.”

_**“Morgan!”** He screams and cries out and pulls against the rope and nothing is okay, no one can help him and he’s killed Morgan and he’s killed so many and-_

“Please.” He finally breaks, choking out the word as he starts to shake. It’s quiet and he knows it won’t do anything but-

“Safeword Tony.” Steve says softly and he’s already sitting up like he knows but why is he stopping when no one else ever does-

“Pickle _._ ” He whispers and sucks in a breath shakily, feeling lightheaded when Steve pulls away. Then several things happen.

Steve’s hands slip under the ropes and pull them apart in one clean snap. Wrists and then ankles are released. Then, before Tony can even breath, he’s rolled onto his side and the blindfold is loosened, lightly brushing his skin as it's pulled away. Then he’s rolled onto his back completely and left blinking up at Steve. The lights have been dimmed.

“Have some water.” Steve says firmly, looking every bit like Captain America as he reaches for a bottle Tony hadn’t noticed before and presses it to Tony’s lips once he is sat up. From a glance, Tony notes that there are energy bars and damp clothes ready on the table too. He hadn't noticed earlier.

As Tony reaches up and takes the bottle, Steve maneuvers the quilt and slips it over them. Then he settles beside Tony, pulling him close till he is semi-leaning on Steve.

They sat there in silence and Tony’s mind played back the events over and over. Why had Steve done what he did? Why when he was so quick to pull away, did he even bother with-

“Did, did you do that on purpose?” Tony says quietly, crinkling the bottle in his hand. He frowns at the way his hands won’t stop shaking and breathes sharply when Steve’s arm pulls him even closer.

“Lets get something straight.” Steve begins, and somehow Tony gets the feeling that Steve’s about to be the most honest he can be with him. 

“I will never, _ever_ hurt you. I can’t do it. Not to you or anyone. But the first time we had sex, I was rough on you. Far too rough and you didn’t stop me.” Steve’s hands clench around him and Tony looks up. Steve looks _livid_. 

“And when I thought about it and we talked after, I realized you’d never stop me, just like you'd never stopped anyone else. I could bruise you and make you bleed and you wouldn’t stop me. Because for some reason you figured that was what I wanted. And I couldn’t deal with that. How could I get involved with you if you’d never be honest with me.”

_Get involved?_

“I thought you didn’t want to get involved.” Tony says quietly and can’t bring himself to face Steve again. He figures Steve is probably grinding marbles.

A hysterical laugh makes Tony look straight up. Steve almost looks crazy with how hard he laughs.

“Steve-“

“With you? Tony, I’ve punched a guy for you. Of course I wanna be involved with you. I wanna make you my sweetheart.” He says and finally, _finally_ smiles at Tony.

“Then why did you...” 

“Why did I ask for the ropes? The bondage?” At Tony’s nod, his expression turns sad. 

“You needed to see that I would stop if you told me. That I would listen if you safeworded or told me to stop. That you don’t need to please me. And I...” 

Steve looks away and suddenly Tony realizes that every grim expression, every awful look in Steve’s eyes, it wasn’t for Tony, it was-

It was Steve’s guilt. That he was putting them through this.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

“I needed to check you would trust me with this. And before, I could tell you didn’t. But now...” Steve’s eyes grow determined. He smiles a little and for once, he looks hopeful, even if his eyes are heavy with pain.

“This showed me you would stop. With me, you can say no. Sure it takes some prompting but I’ll keep an eye. And I’ll have you trusting me completely. I know I’m tough Tony, but I care about you. I’m sorry if I hurt you and this was too much-“

“I don’t like bondage.” Tony blurts out, eyeing Steve carefully. When he sees Steve tilt his head at him, he continues.

“And I want to be hugged. Post-coital cuddling, kissing, the works.”

Steve seems to really look at him. Then he starts to smile. “Sure. Anything else.”

“And we’re keeping pickle. It works.” Tony finally says with a smile, realizing that actually Steve’s right. He did stop. And most of all, he’s listening now. He’s always listened.

"Agreed. You have to be clear and tell me when you need something." Steve sighs and fixes him with a look. 

"I'm so sorry for scaring you. I didn't mean for it to go that far and I wouldn't have let it get that bad if I'd known. I just..." Steve almost shrinks at the words. "I just wanted you to see that I'd keep you safe even when we aren't together. That this is how people should be with you. Careful. I completely understand if you want to end this now."

Tony understands. Yes, he hadn't particularly enjoyed that but he does believe Steve. The man would never ever want to make anyone relive such memories. Hence why he'd been so quick to give aftercare.

“So just to be clear, if I promise to be honest with you-“

Steve looks at him hesitantly but with hope. “Yes.”

“And use my safeword?”

“Yes.”

“And uh, keep myself safe, we-you and I could-“

“I want to date you Tony. Go out with me?” Steve grins tentatively and doesn’t move away when Tony climbs up his chest to kiss him.

“Yes. I want that. I want that so much."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thankyou so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought!


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